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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29314707">I'm Fine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morri_gan/pseuds/Morri_gan'>Morri_gan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Febuwhump 2021 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bullying, Derogatory Language, Drift needs a hug, Gen, Harassment, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Past Prostitution, Minor Injuries, Protective Ratchet, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:13:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29314707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morri_gan/pseuds/Morri_gan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift knew he would face difficulties in dealing with other Autobots. And that's fine, really. He has dealt with worse. He just needs to keep breathing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Drift | Deadlock &amp; Ratchet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Febuwhump 2021 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'm Fine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here is the next story for the Febuwhump prompts. I hope you all enjoy it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘Traiter’</p>
<p>‘Decepticon scum’</p>
<p>‘Murderer’</p>
<p>Perhaps he should be a bit worried about how little effect those words have on him, but it's not like he doesn’t hear them whispered in the halls every other day. The phrase in the center though, carved deep and bold, that one makes him tense. Makes his tanks turn. </p>
<p>Breath in. Hold, one two. Breath out.</p>
<p>That mantra ran through Drifts processor as tired optics gazed at his vandalized habsuite door. It appears that whoever was doing this either finally ran out of paint or was just getting more bold. This time the messages were carved in. </p>
<p>‘Filthy Shareware’</p>
<p>It seems he can’t run from any part of his past. Really, Drift knew that would come up at some point. It just would have been nice if he made at least a full month on this journey until he had to deal with that.</p>
<p>With a sigh, Drift turns and starts to make his way to the labs. He will have to think of a convincing lie so Percepter doesn’t ask any further questions as to why he needs to borrow a dremel. He is once again glad that he chose a smaller hab away from the rest of command. Rodimus has enough to worry about, Drift doesn’t need to bother his friend with harmless harassment.</p>
<p>Besides, Drift knows better than to go to Red Alert and ask if his cameras caught anything as proof. He knows what the answer will be. Going to Ultra Magnus isn’t an option either. Drift is aware how little the other mech likes him, knows that the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord is just waiting for Drift to slip up so he can arrest him. Drift felt it was best not to bother him unless absolutely necessary. In the grand scheme of things, a little vandalism was nothing. </p>
<p>Breath in. Hold, one two. Breath out.</p>
<p>-------------------------</p>
<p>Drift hates it when Rodimus can’t refuel with him. Generally it doesn’t happen often, but this past week Ultra Magnus has been taking much of the captains time. Apparently, one could only put off paperwork for so long before acquiring a rather large and demanding shadow. It’s just Drift’s luck that this would happen the week after he spent a good two hours dremeling crude words from his hab door, and then trying to level the surface so it didn’t look like he had to do so.</p>
<p>The problem is, without Rodimus as a buffer, many of the autobots were, at best, wary of him. It could make finding a seat very awkward. Drift had been considering just refueling in his office, but the crew really does need to get used to him being around already. Plus, it was his hope that if the crew got to know him, they would stop seeing him as an outsider. Now if he could just figure out how to start conversations with those bots. He wasn’t very good at that part.</p>
<p>Today, though, Drift saw Pipes with a small group that he recognized but did not know the names of. Pipes seemed to like him though, so it was as good a start as any. Drift heads over letting out a cheerful greeting as he slid into the seat across from the other mech.</p>
<p>“Oh, hay Drift!” Pipes' friendly field did very little to distract from how the other’s turned wary, distrusting or retracted from him entirely. It also didn’t stop him from noticing how all conversation had stopped and how the others were either not looking at him or, in the case of a femme at the end, glaring at him.</p>
<p>“oh , um, have any of you been properly introduced?” Pipes, Primus bless him, tried to lessen the tension. Drift opened his mouth to introduce himself, more out of politeness then actual need, but was beaten to it.</p>
<p>“We are all well aware of who that is,” the glaring femme said lowly, “Deadlock.”</p>
<p>Drift’s armor abruptly laid flat, finials twitching downward. The silence now firmly uncomfortable and heavy, he was acutely aware of how the tables around them have quieted as well. Listening in. Pipes seemed to be trying to figure out how to intervene in what was obviously not going to be a pleasant interaction. He feels bad about putting the mech in a difficult situation.</p>
<p>“Actually,” Drift tries for casual, puts on a smile that’s likely more of a grimace, “I don’t go by that name anymore. It’s-”</p>
<p>“I know what you call yourself now,” he was quickly interrupted, “But it doesn’t matter. Did you really think changing your name and frame would make us forget what you’ve done?” She scoffs and stands to leave, everyone but Pipes following. “I’ve seen you fight. More than once. To us you will always be the Decepticon’s devil, Deadlock.”</p>
<p>With that they headed out. Drift watched as they went, feeling the pinpricks of stares and glares from the tables around him. </p>
<p>Breath in. Hold, one two. Breath out.</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry about them,” Drift turned back to Pipes whose field was full of nervous energy and annoyance/irritation, “They just, um..”</p>
<p>“It’s fine, really. I can’t expect everyone to like me right?” He tries to reassure the other, “Anyway, I just remembered some finicky paperwork I’m supposed to have done by this evening. So I'll see you around, ya?”</p>
<p>“Uh, ya, sure.” Pipes clearly caught on that this was a lie, but Drift couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed to not feel all those eyes on him. Besides, he wasn’t really hungry anymore.</p>
<p>Maybe taking his meals in his office wasn’t such a bad idea.</p>
<p>----------------</p>
<p>Weekends really have no meaning when you're working full time on a ship. Especially when said ship was on an important quest and had a tendency to attract trouble of all kinds. But there was something about the end of the week that made going to Swerve's feel more acceptable.</p>
<p>Drift wasn’t one to indulge in high-grade often. It wasn’t smart, not with his history with addictives. But these past few weeks have been difficult and so Drift decides to cut loss a little. Just enough to get that comforting warmth in his tanks, that buzz that dulls things just enough to make his problems seem just a little less cumbersome. Just for a night.</p>
<p>He was just starting his third drink, wondering if he should ping Rodimus to see what’s taking him, when his name spoken in a lowered voice caught his attention. </p>
<p>“I mean, how the frag did someone like him end up as an Autobot TIC? Does he even have, like, the credentials?”</p>
<p>“He’s the Captain’s best friend,” Drift didn’t have to look to know how hard the mech rolled his optics, “plus he blindly supports pretty much anything Rodimus says. Course he’d be made the Third, don’t matter if he actually deserves it.” </p>
<p>It baffled Drift that everyone seemed to remember that he had been a high ranking Decepticon, but then forgot what that actually meant. He may not have had a title until he worked under Turmoil, but Drift’s loyalty and knowledge had actually meant that he was a part of Megatron’s inner circle for most of the war. He was one of the few who was both brave enough and important enough to be able to speak plainly, and often bluntly, to Megatron. </p>
<p>Drift may have been an assassin, but he had also led troops into battle hundreds of times. Successfully and with minimal casualties. He sat in on strategy meetings and was present at negotiations, though he was often hidden and only there as security. Drift had a deep understanding of the bureaucracy and intricacies of running, not just a ship, but a primus damned war campaign if ever needed. He was more than qualified to be the Third in command, and Rodimus knew this.</p>
<p>Rodimus knew this, and Drift himself knew this and that's all that matters. Not what others may think.</p>
<p>Breath in. Hold, one two. Breath out.</p>
<p>There was a nasty scoff.</p>
<p>“Way I hear it, the fragger ain’t just the Captain’s number one fan. In fact, I heard he’s command’s personal pleasure bot. And if we're bein’ honest, I can’t blame them. I’d love to see what kinda sounds I could force outta that pretty mouth.” </p>
<p>The table erupted in laughter and agreement and Drift’s intakes hitched. The warm feeling in his tanks was quickly replaced with nausea and he tightened his servos around his glass to stop their shaking.</p>
<p>He’s fine. Everything is fine. Breath in. Hold, one two. Breath out.</p>
<p>Drift sends Rodimus a message, telling him he is tired and turning in early for the night. Then he turns off his comms so he doesn’t have to deal with his friend’s complaints. He doesn’t finish his drink, just heads to the door, pretending he can’t feel the leers or hear the snickers. Everything’s fine.</p>
<p>----------------</p>
<p>Though the smaller hab was familiar to Drift, and therefore more comfortable than the large one he had originally been offered, it unfortunately had no windows. Normally, this wouldn’t bother him, but it meant that if he wanted to try his hand at crystal gardening he couldn’t do it in his room. They need plenty of starlight to grow properly. </p>
<p>So that's why when Rodimus had shown him a sectioned off area on the observation deck, complete with a large table, crystal growing guides and everything else he would need, Drift had nearly tackled his friend in his joy. It was technically a communal garden for anyone to try and enjoy, but everyone knew it was mostly Drift’s project.</p>
<p>It took a few false starts and a lot of reviewing of the datapads but soon enough, Drift had a truly beautiful start to a garden. Once he got going, he ended up being rather good at nurturing the crystals. He was even starting to learn how to ‘train’ the crystals to grow into certain shapes.</p>
<p>Possibly the best part of it all though was that he was meeting other crewmembers and actually getting to know them. Most just liked to view the garden, but some have crystals of their own starting. All of them would talk amicably with Drift when they were there, or at least sit in companionable silence. It was always a really nice change from the distrust and muttered insults he gets almost everywhere else he goes.</p>
<p>That's why, after overhearing what he did at the bar last night, Drift decided to wake up early and spend some time tending to the crystals before his shift today instead of waiting till the shift’s end. Drift entered the empty room, a little smile on his lips and stopped dead in his tracks. </p>
<p>His beautiful crystals littered the ground around a broken table. Drift quickly walked over, optic ridges pinched as he took in the mess. The table had been smashed and his tablets snapped in half, but his crystals. His poor crystals, that he worked so hard on, every single one had been broken. Shattered against the wall. Smashed on the floor. Ground under pedes until they were little more than piles of glittery dust. Even the few that weren’t his had not been ignored. It was more than obvious that none of this had been an accident</p>
<p>Drift felt his vents increase, his field grow erratic as anger boiled up. </p>
<p>Breath in. Hold, one two. Breath out.</p>
<p>He knelt down and picked up one of the larger fragments in shaking servos. It belonged to one of his favorites, a quartz that he had finally figured out what nutrients to give it and when so it’s colors would change. He had almost made a full rainbow. It started to crack in his hands.</p>
<p>Breath in. Hold. Breath out.</p>
<p>Drift felt the sting of cleanser in his optics and ground his dentea. There was no reason to be upset over something so silly. Far worse things had been done to him in the past, this bit of pettiness was nothing. It’s fine, he was fine. He would just clean this up and fix the table and see if he could figure out where Rodimus got all the supplies and find some new tablets, and, and-</p>
<p>Breath in. Hold. Breath out. Breath in. Hold. Breath out.<br/>Breath-</p>
<p>“Fuck it!” Drift angrily threw the chunk of crystal he was still holding and shot to his feet. With a string of yells and curses, Drift kicked at the destroyed crystals, at their pots and growing stands. He threw the useless table to the side and when all that failed to temper his anger and frustration he threw his fist into the wall, denting it and breaking some digits in the process. There he stood, huffing heavy vents and ignoring the pain shooting up his arm, the sting still present in his optics.</p>
<p>“Drift?” the sound of his name actually made him jump. He turned to find Ratchet just inside the doorway, watching him in confusion. </p>
<p>“What in Primus' name are you do-” It’s at this point that Ratchet seemed to notice the mess that was once a little garden, “What in the Pits happened here?”</p>
<p>Drift hates himself a little for the small hiccupping sound that comes from him when he tries to take a deep breath. Even more for the way his voice is rougher than usual. He was being so stupid.</p>
<p>“I guess someone didn’t like how I designed the garden and they wanted to make sure I knew.”  Drift didn’t look Ratchet in the face. He quickly turned and got back down to the ground, carelessly started sweeping pointed shards and dust into a pile. It was stupid of him to throw such a tantrum. Now the mess was even larger than before. He was going to be late for the start of his shift.</p>
<p>“What the frag is that supposed to mean?” Ratchet demands and Drift can hear him making his way closer. He doesn’t want an argument right now. He just wants to be left alone so he can clean this up and figure out what he’s going to tell Rodimus.</p>
<p>“It’s nothing Ratchet,” Drift huffs, reaching for the next bit of shards to add to the pile, “the medibay opens soon doesn’t it? Just go start your shift, I have everything under control.”</p>
<p>“Kid, just because you’re TIC doesn't mean you can boss me-Drift! Stop that you slagging idiot.” The irritated voice filled with concern and frustration as the medic kneeled down and grabbed his hands. Drift was about to spew some offhand remark about old joints when he saw a few drops of energon falling to the ground. That's when he noticed the stinging that was accompanying the steady throb of broken knuckles.</p>
<p>Ratchet tsks as he looks at where tiny shards had made it between the seams of his hands. “This is going to be a bitch to clean out. What were you thinking?” as the medic continues with his scolding, Drift just sat there.</p>
<p>He hadn’t been thinking. Just wanted the mess cleaned up and gone so he didn’t have to look at it anymore. So he didn’t have to see one more bit of proof that he is so unwanted here. He just wanted it all gone, all swept away.</p>
<p>“Woah, hay, Drift?” Ratchet brought a servo to his face, whipping at his cheek and bringing their wetness to the forefront of his mind. When had that started? “What’s going on?” The medic asked in a quieter voice field throbbing with concern/compassion/safety.</p>
<p>Drift is ashamed to admit that, after weeks of stress and little hurts building atop one another, that small kindness was enough for him to break down. With a stuttering ex-vent that turned into a small sob, the tears started to fall in earnest. Drift curled in on himself, injured hands tucked to his abdomen as he immediately tried to gain control, to push it all back down and seal it away.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry” it came out rough and ragged as he tried to gulp in air, “I’m sorry, this is all so stupid and- and you shouldn’t have to deal with this. I just- I just don’t know if I can take this anymore.” An ugly sound forced its way out of his vocalizer.</p>
<p>Suddenly he found strong arms wrapping around him and bringing him into a sturdy chest. A gruff voice spoke in soft tones as he sat there, shaking and venting unevenly.</p>
<p>“You’ve been bottling things up for a while now, huh kid? Time to let it all out ok? No shame in that, everyone has to at some point. You’re safe with me so just let it go.”</p>
<p>It seems Drift didn’t have a choice in the matter. Not when he felt that the person holding him actually cared. So he grabbed onto Ratchet as well as his injured hands could and let out all the frustration and hurt and anger. He still kept himself relatively quiet, but allowing himself to cry and shake and lean on someone else made a tightness in his frame he hadn’t even realized was there slowly fade away. </p>
<p>Even after he had calmed down, Drift remained where he was, suddenly tired and with no idea what he was supposed to do now. As embarrassment and shame started to make themselves known, started to creep into his field, Ratchet huffed and lightly cupped the back of his helm.</p>
<p>“Don’t you start that,” he leaned back with a raised optic ridge, “I can assure you, much more impressive bots have broken down in front of me. At least you fit in my arms, imagine my struggle when I tried to do that for someone whose alt is a primus damned semi.”</p>
<p>That startled a laugh out of Drift as he carefully whipped his face with the back of his wrists. Though, the knowledge did make him feel a bit less embarrassed.</p>
<p>“Now,” Ratchet continued, “Are you going to tell me what brought this on?”</p>
<p>Drift sighed, staring down at his lap. “It- It really is just stu-”</p>
<p>“Stupid, ya so you keep saying,” the medic looked far from convinced, “you don’t really seem the type to cry over something stupid. So how about you tell me what’s going on and I’ll decide for myself.”</p>
<p>That was a fair enough demand, in Drift’s opinion. So he told Ratchet everything. He told him about the glares and whispered insults that follow him everywhere he goes if he is alone. He told him about the painted words that eventually turned to carved blemishes on his habsuite’s door. He spoke of the incident in the cafeteria and how the majority of the crew seemed to have no problem making it clear that he is unwanted, especially if the rest of command isn’t present. </p>
<p>When he got to the conversation he overheard the other night, Drift felt a flash of rage in Ratchet’s field before the medic could suppress it. It made the speedster pause in surprise for a moment, but he didn’t question it. Of course a medic would be angered by what was implied. </p>
<p>By the time he got to his discovery of the ruined garden the frown on Ratchet’s face was deep.</p>
<p>“Drift, none of that is stupid,” Ratchet states very seriously, “that's harassment, bullying, insubordination. Why haven’t you brought it up to Rodimus or Ultra Magnus? Hell, why haven’t you disciplined someone yourself? At least for the door.”</p>
<p>Drift scoffed. “I don’t even know who's doing that. The first time it happened I went to Red Alert and asked him to check the cameras. He claimed there was nothing of interest on them. I didn’t bother trying the next time.” </p>
<p>“And everyone else?” Ratchet demanded.</p>
<p>“What, you want me to discipline bots for hurting my feelings?” Drift gave a self deprecating chuckled</p>
<p>“How about insubordination and spreading falsehoods about a commanding officer.”</p>
<p>Drift blinked. He never really thought about it like that before. To be fair, the way discipline worked with the Autobots was a bit different than with the Decepticons. He was still getting used to it in all honesty. Sure the Decepticons had proper channels to go through, but often more personal attacks like rumors or insults had been left to be dealt with by the parties involved. Drift had had to deal with these things often at the start of the war and did so very successfully. By that he means he beat the slag out of others until no one dared to bring up his past again. Not exactly something he could do here.</p>
<p>“You still haven’t said why you didn’t go to anyone else in command for help.” Ratchet continued after a moment of silence.</p>
<p>Drift had a feeling that Ratchet won’t like this explanation either. “Roddy has had enough to deal with recently, I didn’t want to add to his stress. And I doubt Magnus would actually help seeing as he hates me about as much as most of the other crew members. He’d probably find a way to blame everything on me.”</p>
<p>Ratchet looked a bit baffled. “You think ‘by the book’ Magnus wouldn't want to enforce rules just because you were the victim?”</p>
<p>“Well when you put it like that it sounds silly,” Drift mumbled, looking away, “But that’s just always been my experience.” They are both quiet for a moment, then Ratchet sighs.</p>
<p>“Right then,” the medic stands, groaning a bit as his knees protests, “that settles it. Up you get.  We’re going to the medibay so I can patch up your hands and you're going to take the rest of the day off, abup bup!” Ratchet interrupted before Drift could do more then open his mouth to protest, “I’ll make it an order if I have to. Give your hands a day to rest. You don’t want them to start actin like mine, trust me.”</p>
<p>Drift frowned but nodded his head in reluctant agreement and moved to stand.</p>
<p>“And tomorrow morning, you and I are gonna have a chat with Red Alert,” Drift’s optics shot to Ratchet’s in surprise, “Then we will take what we find there to the Captain and Second and together we will figure out a way to deal with all this.”</p>
<p>Drift could do nothing but stare for a moment. </p>
<p>“I.. you really don’t have to do that Ratchet.”</p>
<p>“Of course I do. Someone has to look after you seeing as you don’t seem to be too good at it. Besides,” Ratchet glanced to the side as he grumbled, “I won’t stand for others treating my friends like trash.”</p>
<p>Drift felt a comforting warmth bloom in his spark. Friends. He hadn’t known Ratchet saw him as anything more than a minor annoyance. </p>
<p>Despite everything that’s happened the past few weeks, Drift found himself smiling. </p>
<p>“Thank you.” He said, projecting as much sincerity and gratitude as could be fit in his field. </p>
<p>“Ya, ya, don’t go making a big deal about it,” the medic grouched, but Drift could see the smallest uptick in his lips as he turned. “Come on, let’s go get you patched up.”</p>
<p>Drift followed, smile still in place. As they were walking through the corridors, a thought came to mind. </p>
<p>“Not that I’m not glad you showed up,” he started, grabbing the others attention. “But why did you come to the observation deck? People aren’t usually there during the switch back to Alpha shift.”</p>
<p>Interestingly enough, the medics cheekplates gained the faintest blush. “Week’s been a bit chaotic and I like to take my morning energon there sometimes. Between the stars and your little garden, it helps me relax before my shift.”</p>
<p>“And no,” Ratchet gave a sharp glance to the swordsmech, “It ain’t because of any ‘calming energy’ from the crystals, or any of that woowoo nonsense. It’s just peaceful, that’s all.”</p>
<p>“Sure Ratchet. Whatever you say.” Drift’s tone made it clear that he thought otherwise. It only made the other mechs glower deepen, his steps quickening as he started grumbling under his breath. Drift let out a small but genuine laugh. The first one in what felt like forever. </p>
<p>He was fine. Everything was going to be fine.</p>
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